


Call out my name

by Quintessence88



Category: Bridgerton (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Developing Relationship, Drama & Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessence88/pseuds/Quintessence88
Summary: "Staring at the countryside she realizes she’s going to miss Regé. Every time she walks in a field, smells freshly cut grass, every time someone says his name, or she hears his voice, his laugh, memories of him, of them, will come back to squeeze her heart. All those little moments, details, stolen instants bordering between fiction and reality... it’s too much and not enough. Were they only for show? The possessive way he holds her sometimes, how his mouth devours hers, his electric touch, was it all just the best performance of a great actor?"What if wrapping up Bridgerton's season 1 made Phoebe and Regé realize there's more between them? What will happen in their future?
Relationships: Regé-Jean Page/Phoebe Dynevor
Comments: 45
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on a possible relationship between Phoebe and Regé. I love their explosive chemistry, the way they interact with one another, and I think they'd make a wonderful couple.  
> That said, I don't mean any disrespect or prying into their private life, this is just a fictional story so please refrain from leaving hate comments. If you don't like it, don't read it, simple. Share love, not hate :)
> 
> English is not my mother language, and I don't have a beta reader, bear with me, please. Thanks for reading :)

**Bridgerton’s set: February 2020** ****

“And that’s a wrap!” the director screams

Everybody cheers happily, talking to one another loudly, the only person who forces a smile on her face is Phoebe. Phoebe Dynevor, Daphne Bridgerton/Dutchess of Hastings, the diamond of the first water, feels petrified on the spot.  
This is the end. The end of a journey, a project, the biggest role of her career. Eight months of etiquette, dance and piano lessons, horse riding, rehearsals on rehearsals, of saying wrong lines and belly laughs, of coordinated touches and kisses, of countless hours in the costume department and under the make-up artists and hairstylists’ care, and just like that… _poof_ , it’s over. Where did the time go? How did it fly so fast? It slipped through her fingers like grains in an hourglass. No, no, no, there’s still so much to do, to feel, to enjoy, to live.  
Her gaze looks for Regé in the chaos surrounding her but he’s not there. If she just could… if only he….  
Her hands close in fists as she tries to school her features — she must appear cheerful, acting is her job after all — yet her breathing gets labored, the beautiful gown she wears turns into a silk cage, she can’t breathe as the panic strangles her chest. Phoebe runs outside, and leans against a wall, forcing her lungs to cooperate and inhale as much oxygen as possible. Why can’t she be happy like all the others? She knows why or better, _because of who_. Staring at the countryside she realizes she’s going to miss Regé. Every time she walks in a field, smells freshly cut grass, every time someone says his name, or she hears his voice, his laugh, memories of him, of them, will come back to squeeze her heart. All those little moments, details, stolen instants bordering between fiction and reality, it’s too much and not enough. Were they only for show? The possessive way he holds her sometimes, how his mouth devours hers, his electric touch, was it all just the best performance of a great actor?  
Phoebe starts pacing back and forth. What’s happening to her? Where do these unexpected feelings come from? She was fine the day before, it was business as usual, and now it’s as if a train run her over: a train with warm brown eyes and a smile to die for.  
Regé is her costar, her friend, an incredible man, he doesn’t feel the same, she’s not even his type for sure - not that he talked about his romantic life to her anyway. He didn’t mention any girlfriend, except that doesn’t mean he’s not seeing someone casually. Picturing him with another woman turns her stomach, bile rises from her throat, and she needs to take a deep to avoid getting sick.

“There you are” Regé joins her “You must be freezing out here without a coat! Here take mine.”

He rests it on her shoulders, and his smell, woody, aromatic and masculine, hits her nostrils like a punch: it’s like being enveloped by him without the slightest contact. The gesture feels intimate, the one of a man tending to his woman, she doesn’t trust her perceptions though, her mind plays tricks letting her imagination run wild.

“Thank you” she whispers

“Are you okay? Why are you here all alone?”

“I needed some fresh air.”

He smiles at her “Is overwhelming, isn’t it? The idea we finally wrapped ‘Bridgerton’ after all these months. It’s almost unbelievable.”He said _finally_. Like he couldn’t wait for it to be over and go back to his life like he just added another great role to his resume and ticked another thing on his to-do list. 

“Yeah.”

“Are sure you’re okay? You’re so quiet.”

Phoebe instinctively wraps herself tightly in the warm jacket. She’s cold now, so much that her body starts shivering, and tears obscure her view; she doesn’t want him to see her like this, he’ll ask questions she has no answer for, he wouldn’t understand, and she won’t gamble her heart to explain.

“Thanks for the coat.”

She gives it back to him and goes back inside, leaving him there. Confused and worried. 

* * *

The room is filled with people drinking and having fun, Phoebe ignores everybody and heads directly to the trailer. As soon as the door is closed, she carefully extricates herself from the costume and dresses into her comfy, cozy clothes. The thermos with hot tea awaits her, and she pours herself some when someone knocks.

“I’m coming.”

She doesn’t expect him to be here yet still, when has he ever done anything she expected? He crashed into her life like a tornado with his mirth, vitality, and witty sense of humor.

“You left in a hurry, and you were nowhere to be found inside. What’s wrong?”

Staring straight at her, Regé knows something is definitely wrong, and nothing will convince him otherwise. He sees her, he always does, even when she’s not looking, even when she’s not aware, he sees right through her. Since she’s not a good liar, she goes for a half-truth…

“I was cold and wasn’t in the mood for celebrating.”

He steps inside “So you decided to hide here”

“I’m not hiding” she replies

“Yes, you are.”

Regé invades her personal space and pins her with his stare to detect any lie. The atmosphere charges with electricity like it always happens when they’re in a room together, they are so close the mug she holds is the only barrier between them. His chocolate brown orbs entice her to get closer, to break their distance, physical and emotional, and risk it all, she’s not impulsive though, and won’t make a fool of herself.

“Would… would you like some tea?” she stammers

“No, thank you. I’ll just take this”

Regé grabs her mug and places it on the counter before turning his attention back to her, to her wringing hands, to that lip he’d like to bite himself. He’s not used to her nervousness, Phoebe’s a shy person at the beginning, but once she opens up, it’s wonderful to discover all the different layers that make her the woman she is: perfect to him. His fingers tentatively reach hers, and a shiver runs through her back, pure electricity traveling deep down her bones. They call it “chemistry”, the alchemy of sensations that spans through time and space, that sets their world on fire: it’s burning under the surface, underneath their own skin and they can’t help themselves, it’s bound to happen whenever they are near. Two magnets drawn together.  
His callous thumb brushes her flawless face, and the contrast is so astonishing, yin and yang, two polar opposites meeting halfway. Phoebe’s eyes fall shut, these blue oceans he could drown into are full of possibilities, of _what-ifs,_ of hope and fragile strength. This moment tells him all he needs to know, confirms his suspicion, she’s so precious, and he could easily ruin everything in a heartbeat. He should go, leave her alone, he just can’t, not when she looks at him with a pleading gaze.

“Phoebe…” 

His hoarse voice sounds like a sensual warning she doesn’t care to listen, he envelops her in his strong arms and kisses her. It doesn’t matter how many times they did it before, this is _their first kiss_ , the first real chance he gets to taste her, earl grey and Phoebe’s unique flavor, not mints and gums, just her. It’s a heady feeling that makes his blood pump faster, sheer adrenaline courses through his veins as her tiny figure presses against him, softness against tautness. Regé loses himself in her scent, his hands roam freely, stroking every inch of clothed skin, he can’t get enough of her. How can a kiss be so addictive and powerful at the same time? He doesn’t want to stop ever again, only when the need for air gets to be too much they break apart, foreheads pressed together, and they burst out laughing. They look ridiculous, he’s still dressed like the Duke of Hastings, and her in boring, unattractive clothes, they’re quite a pair! 

“You’re amazing…” he murmurs

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Ouch!” Phoebe squeaks after Regé pinches and gropes her butt

“I’m not so bad, aren’t I?” he smirks

“Not at all, Mister Page”

Watching her radiant smile directed at him gives him a surge of pride. This extraordinary woman isn’t just a talented actress, a generous friend, and costar, but a beautiful, loving soul he wishes to treasure and never let go. 

“How do you feel?” he asks tracing the seam of her lips

“Wonderful” she grins, biting his finger playful

Regé has to control his physical reactions otherwise this little temptress will bring him to his knees. Phone notices the sudden change in his breathing, his grip tightening around her waist, and something quite big poking at her belly. _Oh…_ someone seems awake, and she grinds against him without shame.

“Phoebe please…” he groans, his huge erection strains against the breaches, and it’d be comical if he weren’t in such discomfort “Not here, darling.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a _hand_?” she giggles

“Very funny, miss Dynevor! Ah ah ah”

“I could help you release… some tension” she teases

“Stop it!” he chuckles, pressing a hard kiss against her awaiting mouth “You’re terrible!” 

Phoebe wraps her arms against his neck and whispers in his ear “The word you’re looking for is _terrific_.”

“You’ll be the death of me, woman!”

“What a way to go, though!”

“Okay, I’m out of here. Will I see you later at the dinner party?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

Before leaving her trailer, Regé adjusts his pants, shaking his head with a megawatt smile. Phoebe hugs herself giddy at the prospect of what “later” may entail… she wants him, there’s no doubt, and it’s more than just bare attraction, their connection is strong, so unbridled, and intense she has no power against it. It’s a fight she’s willing to lose because he’s worth it, no matter what the future holds, it’ll be worth it.

** Comments are more than welcome!  **


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back with chapter 2! I don't know how many there will be, so stay tuned and if you read and love my story, please leave a comment! Thanks
> 
> PS: I know they had a great time at the wrap party from the pictures I've seen online, but this is fanfiction, so...

**Bridgerton’s wrap party: February 29, 2020**

The party venue, beautifully set by the hotel, is nothing extravagant: a long buffet with different kinds of finger food, tables on the side, music, and space to dance.  
Phoebe styles her blonde hair so they fall in glossy waves behind her shoulders, puts on some delicate make-up, and wears a black lace dress reaching above her knees. She doesn’t want to give the impression of trying too hard, less is more in her case.  
When she enters the room, Regé is already holding a glass of wine as he talks to Martins. His black shirt’s slightly open at the top, and the jeans cover his strong, muscled thighs: he’s the epitome of sexiness in a whole enticing package. He senses her presence and excuses himself to reach her.

“Hi…” he smiles “You look gorgeous”

“Thank you”

She feels shy and nervous around him. It doesn’t make any sense, he’s not a stranger, he’s the same man she laughed and rehearsed dance after dance with, stepping on his toes for months. What’s changed? Their kiss and the promise of “later”, of _more_ and that scares her. A piece of the advice her mother gave her when she decided to pursue the acting career at sixteen years old was never ever getting involved with a costar, especially if the project had the potential to grow and continue in the future. “Bridgerton” is inspired by the first of an eight books’ series that already has a huge fan base all over the world, and thanks to Shonda Rhimes’s incredible input, the series will be probably well received by the public. Is this why she’s freaking out internally? Phoebe grabs a flute of champagne from a waiter passing and gulps it down.

“Whoa, slow down tiger!” he chuckles “The night is young”

“Sure”

They get some food from the buffet and eat as they mingle. Everybody’s ecstatic, talking and sharing ideas, yet Phoebe still feels out of place. These are her friends, her costars, they had so much fun together the past months and somehow she’s miles away from them, from this same room. There are so many thoughts running through her head that overwhelm her, so she steps away to find a small corner to sit, drink and mull over them. Jonathan joins her soon after.

“What are you doing here all alone, girl?”

“Drinking” she raises her glass

“I see. Is everything okay? I haven’t seen you since we finished shooting this morning”

“I needed some peace” she sighs

After a pregnant pause, he asks “Are you going to miss it?”

“What?”

“ _This_. The cast and crew, filming, England” he chuckles

“England is my country”

“You get what I mean.” he sips his beer “I will miss it, I had a wonderful time with all of you”

“Of course I will too. You all are a second family to me”

“Some more than others…” he smirks

“What are you implying?” she narrows her eyes at him

“You don’t need for me to explain, _sister_ ”

“I have no clue about your hints”

“Yeah, yeah. You know I don’t miss anything… just be careful, things may get messy” he tilts his head to the side to indicate Regé

“I need more Champagne”

“You’re going to get drunk at this rate”

“Who cares!” she stands up “Our job is done.”

Phoebe considers how to make a quick exit and go unnoticed. Jonathan’s a dear friend to her, but she can’t stand another light inquisition or she’ll fall apart. How did he detect something between her and Regé when she can’t even acknowledge what it is? Is she so easy to read? If she stays longer, no one will stop her from getting the worst hangover ever, and when she’s so down, she turns into an ugly, crying drunk: not the best memory to leave their castmates. She decides to try her luck and steps outside when Regé follows her.

“Hey, where are you going? Back to your room so soon?”

“I’m tired. It has been a long day of eight long months.”

She treats him coldly without a reason and puts some distance between them because her mother’s and Jonathan’s words linger in her mind. Suddenly “them” together is a very bad idea that will have consequences for sure: a guaranteed heartbreak. She can’t let that happen, she has to protect herself, be smart and think about the future. Her career is at stake, and it’s more important any fling or pleasurable one-night stand they may enjoy.  
Regé notices her change right away, she’s impenetrable with her walls up, and more beautiful than ever for a sick cosmic joke. She’s still in front of him, yet beyond reach, he can’t get past her defenses.

“Goodnight Regé”

“What did I do wrong?”

Her step falters. The hallway is no place for a similar conversation, but going to either of their rooms isn’t an option. She plasters a smile on her face and faces him.

“Nothing. I just need to rest”

“Don’t lie to me” he whispers “What happened this morning…”

“It was pleasant. There’s too much at stake to complicate things any further”

“Is that what you think it’d be? You wouldn’t be another notch on my bedpost in case you’re wondering!”

“Really? So pray tell _what_ I’d be then?”

“I… I…”

“You don’t know, do you?” resignation mars her features and it pains him more than he can explain “That’s what I thought”

The past months’ emotions finally take their toll, and the weight of exhaustion settles on her shoulders. Phoebe feels deflated, the moments shared in her trailer seem so far away like a dream she dared to have, except she’s awake now, and the reality mocks her in all its bleakness.  
Regé is so handsome it hurts: his squared jaw, the two-days stubble she imagines to graze her in all the wrong places, his full mouth she didn’t kiss enough. They could have it all until they couldn’t, and it’s a slap on the face.  
He doesn’t stop her when she turns around to leave this time, and Phoebe doesn’t look back. A hurried stride brings her back to her room before she breaks down. Her back pressed against the wooden door slides down the ground as fat tears line her cheeks, liquid sorrow overflows out of her as she hugs her knees to the chest. Despite how much she fights it, she’s in love with him, and there’s no cure for this feeling, her heart belongs to Regé. Phoebe crawls under the shower, letting the hot water purge her wounded soul. She has to live with the burden of her decision, and every day they spend apart in the future, it’ll hurt less and less until they’ll both forget anything they shared. Or so she hopes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is up! Thanks for reading and reviewing my story, it means so much to me! Keep leaving your comments so I know what you think about it! 
> 
> Ps: Just to give you a bit of context when I wrote this chapter I got some dates mixed up, I thought Bridgerton's wrap party was at the end of January, not February, and this event was supposed to be the Dinner Party Pre-Bafta they attended together. In the end, I liked it too much to change it or remove it, so here it is... enjoy!

**Dinner & Party Promotion Event: March 2020 **

Tonight’s event is the last Regé and Phoebe need to attend to before parting their ways. They arrive at the venue separately, him with a friend, her alone. Her mask is in place, nice, professional, and approachable. Only a keen observer would detect a small crack in Phoebe’s armor the moment he enters the party in an immaculate tuxedo, so attractive and charming, he’s sex on legs. Regé spots her in the crowd, the magnetic force of her south pole attracts his north, an invisible pull that draws them closer. He crosses the room with confident steps, in a blink, he’s there, in front of her, and it takes her breath away.

“Hello Phoebe”

“Hello”

The greeting feels strained and cold, an unknown formality sits between them like a huge elephant. They pretend to be detached, yet how he leers at her body in the short cut-out dark red gown that leaves little to the imagination. He undresses her slowly, piece after piece of clothing leaving her naked and vulnerable under his stare. They are in public, it’s inappropriate, yet so good to be desired by him so wantonly. Phoebe blushes, and she may blame the alcohol or the high temperature, it’s his fault though, his unapologetic scrutiny burns her, scorching her skin underneath layers of fabric. She should ask him to stop, to behave, except before she can utter a word someone snaps them back to attention.

“Phoebe, Regé hello! We need you for the pictures. Could you follow me, please?”  
  
“Sure” 

How can he appear so unaffected by the past five minutes when she’s so hot and flushed? Phoebe would like to punch him, damn him! She inhales deeply, composing herself: they’re both professionals, they’re more than capable to fulfill their work responsibilities without their issues interfering.   
They pose for the photos, but the physical closeness only aggravates Phoebe’s current state, his cologne invades her senses, and dizziness hits her hard. He smells so good, testosterone on steroids, he’s so delectable she has to remind herself of her choice before she throws herself at him.  
After the quick shooting, Phoebe goes mingling, putting much-needed space between them. Sipping a glass of Champagne, she ponders if it’d be so bad for them to sleep together, perhaps she could get him out of her system and go back to being just friends. The little angel on her right shoulder strongly disapproves, it wouldn’t be just an itch to scratch because feelings are involved.  
His laugh breaks her out of her reverie, she turns in that direction only to see him beam at a gorgeous brunette with endless legs and long luscious hair. His arm is wrapped around her waist, her hand brushes his jacket’s lapel, they look cozy. Her heart plummets to the stomach, and her fist clenches around the flute she holds… so that’s his type? Of course, she is! Why wouldn’t he be attracted to a bombshell? The girl’s everything she’s not: sexy, provocative, confident, perhaps a model. Flashes of him kissing her, touching her, fucking her make her crazy! Jealousy doesn’t suit her, and green is not her color; she turned him down, what the hell does she want now? He’s free to screw whomever he pleases, he owes her nothing, why does it hurt so bad then? Why does the mere possibility of him with anyone else shred her soul into slivers?  
Despite the instinct to fake some sort of illness and go back home, Phoebe forces herself to endure a seated dinner, fake smiles, empty conversations with strangers, nodding at the right time. It’s torture, Regé sits right beside her, yet his focus never shifts from the beautiful lady at his other side, she has to witness the scene and pretend to be indifferent. This is the longest night of her life!   
As the night goes on, despair morphs into a rage. If he can flirt with anyone breathing shamelessly, she can do the same and inflicts him the same pain he does without blinking. Phoebe proceeds to charm her way into groups after groups of men. It’s no different than acting, she plays a role and feeds herself lines, no script needed. Luke, Michael, Alexander, and many other names she forgets a second after the introduction, surround her like bees around a flower, and she drinks, laughs, teases them, the “sweet, little” Phoebe unveils a secret temptress. She could leave with one of them out of spite, some are handsome, smart, even funny, she could erase Regé’s memory with a stranger, but she’d be the only one suffering later. In her peripheral vision, his brooding figure looks livid, she just ignores him and giggles at a guy’s joke, that seems to be the last straw for him.

“Phoebe, a word” Regé demands

“I’m busy at the moment” she dismisses him

“I’ll steal only a minute of your time”

He grabs her wrist, manhandling her outside. London’s night air is chilly but she doesn’t feel it, she’s so angry at him for his erratic behavior: he’s being arrogant, rude, and disrespectful. He looks like a possessed man, so out of character for him, so out of control.

“What are you doing?” she hisses

“I should ask you the same question!” he retorts

“What do you care? Have you finished with your brunette? That must have been a quick… encounter.”

“My brunette, huh?” he sneers “I can assure you: if we had any kind of encounter… it wouldn’t have been quick!”

“I don’t need to hear about your disgusting flings!”

She pushes past him to walk away, but he blocks her arm. Her gaze pauses on his tight grip, before glaring at him defiantly. How dare he treat her like this? He has no claim on her!

“You’re causing a scene! Let. Me. Go!”

“Where? To your _male_ _friends_?” he growls

“Are you jealous by chance?”

Phoebe tries to read his eyes he expertly averts. _Caught_! How easy the roles reversed… one hour before she was the one fuming, strangling the napkin under the dinner table, and now the green-eyed monster took possession of him.

“You wish, darling!” 

“So you don’t mind if I bring one of my _male friends_ home tonight…?” she provokes him 

“You will do no such a thing!” he thunders, his rugged features twist with blind rage

“Why?” she demands

“Because you are mine!”

Regé crashes his lips on hers, prying them open with his tongue: the intoxicating flavor of Phoebe and champagne sends his taste buds into overdrive. In a heartbeat she finds herself pressed against a wall, his strong thigh between her legs, his greedy hands groping everywhere as if he couldn’t touch her enough all at once, worried she may stop him at any given moment. He places wet kisses on her face, her jaw, moving down to her neck, sucking her pulse point.

“Regé…” she pants

He brushes her inner thigh’s skin, reaching her silk panties. Wetness soaks the fabric, and he groans at the thought of her lusting after him as bad as he does her. Passion blinds their minds and makes them careless, completely unconcerned by their surrounding or how exposed they seem to be. He boldly pushes the last scrap of material aside and traces her sex gently to gather her reaction. Phoebe gasps with pupils blown by arousal, and rosy cheeks… such a lovely and irresistible vision! Regé presses his thumb on her clit, circling it as a new gush of moisture coats his fingers entering her. His thrusts gain speed and purpose as he hits a particular spot that drives her wild.

“Tell me you want this,” he bits her earlobe

“Oh God!” she throws her head back exposing her throat to more tending

“Say it and I’ll make you come”

“I… I… I want this! Please” she begs

Regé swallows her moans with consuming kisses and pushes her to the edge until she climaxes, shaking in his arms: watching her completely unravel is the best sight he has ever seen, and he wishes he could do it again and again, live between her legs for the rest of his life and be content. His cock is so hard he may explode any moment, he craves her so desperately, yet that’s not the time or place, mostly she deserves better. She deserves the world, to be worshipped in a bed for hours, to discover new, incredible heights, and lose herself in endless pleasure.  
As Phoebe comes back to him, he pulls out and sucks his digits into his mouth, and _fuck_ , if he’s not tempted to fall on his knees and keep getting her off. She bits her lower lip at the scene and lowers her dress suddenly aware of their heated activities, she wishes to kiss him to taste herself on him, but they could get carried away again…   
Once her high is gone, she sobers up. They almost fucked in a dark corner outside a work-related party, they could have been seen, or worse, someone could have taken pictures. Her pressure spikes at the idea of the shots all over the internet, their names dragged through the mug, their careers ruined: it has to stop, they have to stop! 

“I think I’ll go home”

“Seriously?” he snaps “After what we’ve done, you’re running again?”

“I’m being responsible,” she fixes her hair “One of us has to be”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“We can’t control ourselves around each other! We could have been caught, Regé!” she barks at him

“You weren’t complaining five minutes ago”

She shakes her head disgusted “You know what? Screw you!”

If Phoebe was mad when he dragged her away before, nothing compares to how furious she’s now. How can be such an asshole? He’s a man after all, what does she expect? Predicting her move, Regé blocks her way before she attempts to head back inside.

“Get out of my way!”

“Phoebe, please. Let’s talk”

“It doesn’t work much for us”

“Hear me out. I’m sorry for what I said, it’s just…” he sighs “You and me…”

“It’s complicated” she adds

“It doesn’t have to be… You mean so much to me”

She regrets not having the wall behind to support her because her legs are shaky, and her poor heart threatens to burst with joy. It shouldn’t surprise her he cares about her, they are friends who shared so many incredible adventures, yet this… it sounds like a declaration without exposing himself too much.  
His eyes are honest and kind, he’s open and vulnerable right now like she had never seen him before, and his silence speaks volumes more than any word.  
Her small hand caresses his face, and he leans against her touch as if she was his salvation, both a blessing and a curse, pleasure, and pain.

“Regé, I… you mean so much to me too”

“Don’t shut me out then. Let’s figure this out together”

“Okay”

“Thank you” he places a small kiss on her nose

They return to the party and mingle together for the rest of the night. Regé never leaves her side and watches her like a hawk, ready to scare away any idiot who tries to hit on her. They may have not laid the cards on the table, he knows what he wants though, _her_ , and she’s the one who needs more time to think things through.   
Once he drives her back home, Regé doesn’t ask to be invited in and says goodbye to her with a chaste kiss despite his physical ache: jumping into sex wouldn’t be wise for them or the solution to her hesitancy. He’s willing to wait for her as long as it takes, the ball is in her court now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 is up! Thanks for all your love! Keep reading and reviewing, I like knowing what you think! :)

Phoebe spends the night tossing and turning. Her mind keeps replaying the latest events: Regé’s jealousy, their intimate activities outside the party, how he touched her and brought her to climax so easily as if he knew her secrets better than herself. Questions about their “relationship” don’t let her rest, how can something so perfect be so difficult at the same time? She wishes he could be there, his warmth pressed against her back, his steady breathing and comfort would lull her to sleep. She closes her eyes and indulges in daydreaming under the empty blankets as the sun rises outside the window. Sunrise is her favorite moment, when the sky chases the darkness away, and the day ahead is full of possibilities, of things to do, to learn, and discover.

Phoebe turns her phone on and finds a text from Regé.

_I can’t stop thinking about you…_

He sent it hours before, and he’s probably asleep now. He’s usually an early bird, ready to start every new day with a bang, but they came back home late from the event. She hesitates on whether to call him, she hates bothering people, except he’s not “people”, he is… she pushes on his name blindly and starts the call. 

“Hey” his groggy voice greets her

“Hey… did I wake you?”

“I was just about to”

“I’m sorry, I’ll call you back later”

“No, don’t hang up… I love hearing your voice”

She sighs “I wish you were here”

“Me too”

“Come to me then”

“Are you sure? I’ll be there in twenty minutes”

When Regé rings the bell, Phoebe opens the door and hugs him tight around his middle, his rugged presence and woody smell are so comforting she doesn’t want to let go. He presses a gentle kiss on her temple, holding her close. There’s nothing sexual in this embrace, only the basic need of having the other person near, even if they were together only a few hours before. She pulls him inside her home without breaking her grip and that makes him laugh.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know that?”

He raises her chin with a finger, and blue sleepy eyes knock the breath out of him: disheveled blonde hair and a make-up free face don’t make her any less lovely or desirable. Her natural beauty borders on perfection, she’s flawless, and he stares at her in awe like a lovesick puppy. 

“God, you’re so beautiful”

“I am not!” she denies shyly 

“You are to me”

“Let’s go to bed” she murmurs

He smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“To sleep” she explains, grinning

They slip under the covers, and he surrounds her like a Linus blanket, a big spoon to her little just like she imagined: it feels so right, they’re pieces of the same puzzle coming together. He places small kisses on her shoulder, and she squeals, ticklish, and grinds against his massive bulge accidentally.

“Oops…” she chuckles 

“I’d have to be dead not to be aroused around you…” he jokes

“I’m sure this is not the way you pictured the first time in a bed with me”

“It’s more than perfect.” he pauses, squeezing her “Pheebs, I just want to hold you, we don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for”

“I feel safe with you”she sighs “It’s just…it’s happening all so fast”

“I know”

Phoebe turns around to face him, he looks tired smiling at her, and her heart expands for the love she feels for this man. His growing stubble tickles her as she caresses his jaw, it’s a subtle, yet meaningful gesture, a connection that runs deeper than the surface. His mouth parts in surprise, and her thumb continues its exploration on that plump, tempting lip she really wishes to kiss. His eyes darken at the move, she has no idea how erotic even her smallest action is. He sucks her digit thoroughly, she gasps because he doesn’t play fair, never meant to, especially when she stares at him as if he was her whole world.   
Their kiss is a climax itself. It’s wild, burning, and consuming with teeth clashing and tongues fighting. The sweet intimacy prior turns into a spreading fire, clothes are shed until only a thin layer of fabric separates them, and they’re both breathless. Regé finds the little spot behind her ear that makes her melt and whimper, he loves the way she lets go and trusts him with her body. His focus shifts to her nipples, puckered buds he licks and bits making her squirm, she smells like vanilla, absolutely delicious! He moves down her abdomen when she grabs his chin to steal another kiss, and pushes him on his back, straddling him. Regé beams at her, she’s full of surprises! Phoebe smirks and rolls her barely covered pussy against his groin.

“Oh Phoebe…” he moans

Her arousal damps his very tight boxers, and it sends him crazy. They’re dry-humping like teenagers, and he swears he could come just like this, just feeling her wetness on him, and watching her creamy skin turn red for the heat. Phoebe has other plans though, her tiny hand resumes the sensual journey she began before: from his jaw, alongside the neck’s tendons and to his collarbone, his broad chest and pecs, this defined six-pack she traces intently until the last obstacle is in her way. They look at each other for a moment, then she scoots back between his legs and unveils him to her lustful gaze. _Ohhh…_ Regé’s really a fine specimen of man, his impressive cock stands hard and proud, aching for her attention. She never liked giving blowjobs before, and his size intimidates her a bit, yet the urge to please him is so unbearable she wraps her hand around him and flicks her tongue around the tip. The groan he emits sounds almost inhuman, his fists clench around the sheets to fight against such overwhelming sensation, he has been on the edge for so long he doesn’t know how long he will last. Phoebe appreciates he doesn’t pressure her despite his obvious excitement, he feels heavy and soft at the same time, his musky and salty taste invades her senses as she inhales deeply and pushes him down as far as she can. She notices his knuckles turning white for the effort to stay still and not thrust up, so she increases her rhythm, bobbing her head and hums around him. The vibration travels down his spine and jolts him like a lightning bolt, Regé grunts loudly, he’s getting close, he can’t hold back any longer.

“Phoebe, stop! I’m about to come…” he pants

She doesn’t though, she pins her baby blue eyes on him and sucks him harder and faster. At the sight of it, Regé just loses it, his body tenses and gets rigid before he explodes down her throat, moaning her name like a prayer. His orgasm seems to last forever, it’s almost an otherworldly experience, and if oral sex blows his mind this way, he can’t even imagine how breathtaking real sex would be.  
Phoebe cleans her mouth with her palm, the bold vixen who bewitched him a few moments ago retreats in herself, but he doesn’t give her time to feel self-conscious, he lifts her up and kisses her senseless. He tastes himself on her and it turns him on badly, who needs a break when there’s a half-naked Phoebe Dynevor nearby…

“You’re extraordinary!” he murmurs against her swollen lips 

She shakes her head with a timid smile as he strokes her smooth skin, following her spine, vertebra after vertebra all the way to the curve of her back. His hand sneaks underneath her panties welcomed by the familiar moisture that tantalized him before: someone must have really enjoyed blowing him…  
A small whine escapes her, and she grasps his biceps for leverage to chase her own release. Her pelvis moves frantically against his touch, she’s so beautiful he can’t stop himself from marking her, biting the slope of her breast and that sparks her peak off. Nothing will ever be more magnificent than seeing ecstasy reflected on her features, and he’s the lucky bastard to witness it.   
His cellphone rings noisily from somewhere in the room, he ignores it, but at the third repeated call, he stands up to retrieve it.

“Hello” he answers “No, I just heard it from you. Okay, okay thanks”

“What’s going on?” Phoebe asks covering herself with the blankets

“WHO* just declared Covid a global pandemic, US will close the borders soon, I’ve to leave immediately”

Regé grabs his clothes and starts redressing without noticing she hasn’t uttered a word. Million of thoughts crowd her brain, she can’t think clearly: one minute they were in bed tangled in each other on cloud 9, and a second later their world fell apart. He must realize the deafening silence surrounding them because he looks at her tying his sneakers.

“Come back to LA with me”

It’s more a plead than a request, there’s no misunderstanding in that. 

“My visa expired. I guess I’ll go to Manchester to be with my family”

“Pheebs…” he whispers “God knows how long it’ll be before I can be back in the UK”

Phoebe’s aware of that, it may be months, months with him at the other side of the planet, in a different time zone, living another life without her. She should ask him to stay, not to leave, but the voice fails her. They’re doomed, victims of an unsynchronized passion. An invisible wall raises between them, he’s leaving and it triggers her defense mechanism: she pushes him away before he does the same. 

“Talk to me”

“What’s there to say?” she puts a robe on “You’ll be on a plane in few hours”

The way she tightens the string around her waist, her rigid posture set the tone of the conversation: there’s not much to discuss anymore.

“It seems like you don’t care!” he says shocked

Regé is getting angry, how can she be so indifferent? They’re talking about being separated for so long, her passiveness is unbelievable!

“What do you want me to do? You made your decision!”

“I asked you to come with me!” he argues

“And I told you I can’t!” she retorts

“Don’t do this to me… to us!”

His voice cracks like her chest. Phoebe averts her gaze, she can’t meet his sad, anguished eyes: this can’t be goodbye, she won’t be able to bear such pain. How naive of her to think she could keep her distance, be his friend, that she could avoid the heartbreak and dodge the bullet, instead it pierced right through her.

“We could be happy together…”

“How? You’ll be in California and I’ll be here”

His hands frame her face and he rests his forehead against hers. Regé brushes her tears away with tenderness and embraces her as she sobs in his arms. How is he supposed to leave her? The mere idea to be far from her, not to be able to hold her, to kiss her, or see her smile is physical agony, so he clings to her like adesperate soul. Phoebe mumbles incoherent things against his neck and he wants to confess his feelings, just not when he’s about to step out of the door, it’d only make the situation harder. Their timing sucks, it had since the beginning, he doesn’t know how to fix it or lead them in the right direction as a couple. Starting a relationship during a global pandemic and being on two different continents sounds insane no matter how much they may fight for it, what’s the alternative though? Letting her go? Impossible! He rejects to notion!  
Regé whispers sweet nothings and caresses her back to soothe her until she stops crying. Even with a red nose and tears-stricken cheeks, Phoebe’s still the most beautiful woman and claims her mouth like he can’t get enough of her like he won’t be able to breathe without her. Desperation seeps into the kiss, despite the craving for each other, he won’t have sex with her, their first time shouldn’t be filled with sadness and despair, only with love and devotion. They break apart and she places a gentle kiss right on his heart as if she could heal it and keep the broken pieces together for his sake.

“I’m gonna miss you so much”

“Don’t, please” she kisses him again quickly and takes a step back “Go now, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not”

“We’ll talk to each other every day” she offers

“It won’t be enough”

It’s true, it won’t be, but she pretends to be strong and lies to survive this moment, she’d fall to her knees and beg him to stay otherwise.

“We’ll make it work”

Another lie. When has it become so easy for her?

“Don’t forget how much you mean to me” he pleads, stroking her cheek

“I promise” she forces a smile

“I’m going then”

“Okay”

Regé grabs his hoodie and heads to the door. He hesitates an instant, gripping the door handle tight before he turns around. The look they share conveys so much intensity, love, pain, and struggle. In two steps he cuts the distance and hugs her one last time as if he can’t physically allow himself to detach from her.

“I’ll call you before I take off”

She nods, unable to swallow the lump in her throat, and watches him walk out of her house. Or perhaps her life.  
  


*World Health Organization


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 is up! I've been debating a lot whether to keep writing this story or not, but I've received a lot of positive feedback and vibes from some people who love it and wants to me continue.   
> I had already written this and the next chapter when Regé's pics with his girlfriend came out... I'm heartbroken like many of you, but this is fiction and here we can enjoy our "fantasy" without hurting or badmouthing anyone. I wish Regé all the happiness in the world, still, I think he and Phoebe make a great couple!  
> Enjoy and review, please! Love you all, D.

A few days later Phoebe travels to Manchester just in time before UK’s government announces the lockdown and the immediate closure of businesses.  
Coming back to her hometown always brings back so many memories, this is the place that feels like “home”, and she’s grateful to be close to her family throughout this difficult period.  
Regé calls her every day, often multiple times, or they text. Hearing his voice is not enough, not even seeing him via FaceTime can’t placate the pain inside her chest. During her lowest moments, she wishes he disappeared and ghosted her, perhaps it’d be easier to live daily life without any expectations, without experiencing this punch in the gut whenever his smile appears on the screen, or without wondering if that will be his last call. The unknown kill her slowly.  
It’s a vicious cycle, the more she tries not to think about him, the more every single thing reminds her of him. Distractions usually help, books, tv series, movies, when she’s in bed at night though, her mind always wanders… _what is he doing? What time is it in LA now? Does he miss me? Is he thinking of me?  
_ The quarantine, the lack of freedom, the confinement all together in the same house sometimes get too much, and she’s insufferable, irritated, and snaps at everybody. Today is one of these days when she’d scream and shout at the earth just for turning on its axis, so she goes out to the field, to be alone, and breathe some fresh air. She stomps her feet like a child, well aware that her rage is misplaced, she’s on the verge of exploding, and she needs to find an outlet. Her solitude doesn’t last long as her mother joins her in her walk.

“Honey, what’s going on? I’ve been watching you for a while, something troubles you…”

“It’s nothing”

Sally smiles, sympathetic. They look so much alike is like staring at the mature version of herself. Two sides to the same coin. Same blue eyes, smile, and blonde hair. Her mom is her rock, a constant in her life, her role model, what she aspires to be, not only professionally, but as a woman, and she doesn’t want to disappoint her.

“You know you can talk to me” she squeezes her cold hand

“I…” Phoebe tries to keep the tears at bay and fails miserably “I…”

It takes one motherly glance to understand the situation “Oh dear, you’re in love. Who is he?”

“I know you’ve always told me not to date my costars but…” she rushes to explain almost worried about her reaction, or the lecture that will follow

“Forget what I said, the heart wants what it wants”

“Oh mama” she sobs

Sally hugs her daughter tight, it pains her to see her hurting. Phoebe had always been strong, confident, and level-headed, no past breakup has ever reduced her to a mess.

“Baby it’s okay, don’t cry. Tell me about him”

She pats her face with a tissue and clears her voice “Regé is… funny, intelligent, incredibly talented, and charming. The kind of guy everybody adores, a great friend, also sweet, attentive, and he looks at me as if I was the only person in the world”

“He means a great deal to you”

“He does…” she wrings her hands “That’s why it’s so hard. I went from seeing him on set every day to have an ocean between us”

“Is he not in London?”

“No, he’s back in Los Angeles”

“I see…”

They resume their walk quietly until Phoebe breaks the silence “I have no idea how to make it work, and I desperately want to. He’s a remarkable man, and I’m… just me, how long will it take for him to replace me?”

Sally halts to a stop, suddenly very annoyed “Phoebe Harriet Dynevor, I forbade you to speak of yourself in such manner! You’re _just you_? Where does this lack of self-worth come from?”

Her gaze lowers to the ground, focusing on the grass. She can’t remember the last time her mother scolded her, and it makes her feel so small she wishes the ground swallowed her up.

“You’re a wonderful young woman who has so much to give,” Sally continues “And if he’s smart like you say, he’d do anything not to lose you” 

“You’re right, but… Regé is the handsome, attractive guy women are all over, and how could they not? He’s amazing!”

“If he’s the one, he won’t give you any reason to be jealous or chase other women away”

Phoebe sighs “I just miss him… I feel so out of control, and the future is so uncertain and unpredictable, who knows if we even will have one together” 

“Only time will tell”

After the conversation with her mother, Phoebe feels lighter, she always helps her to put things into perspective, especially when she loses focus on reality.  
Since the beginning of the pandemic, people found several ways of coping with the confinement, and a friend recommended her to start journaling for its liberating purpose. She decides to give it a try, locks the door of her room, and puts on some relaxing music… Regé’s name comes to her mind, and an idea pops up: she’ll use the journal to write him about the thoughts she keeps hidden, even if he’ll never read any of it. 

_Dear Regé,  
_ _This is the only place I can be myself and tell you everything. I imagined words would pour out of me with a pen in my hand, yet they don’t… why is it so hard to unfold myself to you? There will be no judgment on this paper, no fear of rejection or worries about the future, just me and my open heart.  
_ _We went through a whirlwind of emotions I still find myself processing… strangers, costars, friends, lovers. They’re labels, you and I can’t be put into a box, we don’t fit, we are just different from all the rest.  
_ _I love you… I think I fell for you before I even realized it, when I entered the room for the chemistry test and you were there, the perfect Simon Bassett, tall, dark, and brooding. It felt good, there was something exciting about reading with you, I felt the chemistry, something intangible like a buzz in the air. I was so focused on getting the part I didn’t recognize it right away, and you can call me naïve, but I had never experienced a similar sensation to fully grasp the greatness hiding in plain sight.   
_ _Do you know the story of the red thread of fate? The legend has it that the two people connected by the_ **_red thread_ ** _are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord tied to the pinkie may stretch or tangle, but never break, even if life brings these people to opposite directions or in the arms of others. Only now, in the silence of these four walls, I comprehend no matter what happens to us, whether we’ll end up together or not, I’ll always be tied to you, perhaps not physically, spiritually though, and nothing will ever break our bond._ _You came into my life like a ray of sunshine after the longest darkness, I was about to give up acting when I received the call for Bridgerton, and love wasn’t in my plans for sure… here we are though, so distant and yet so close.  
_ _Whenever I can’t sleep at night I replay us, our moments, I force myself to remember even the tiniest detail about you, how your kisses taste, the smell of your skin, those little wrinkles underneath your eyes when you smile. I can’t allow myself to forget anything because who knows what the universe has in store for us.  
_ _I’m scared of losing you and what we have, that the distance will subdue your feelings for me, and you’ll move on. That’s the reason why I wanted to keep my distance because I wouldn’t be able to handle it, I wouldn’t be able to see you happy with someone else other than me. Perhaps I’m selfish or just aware you’re one of a kind, and a woman is lucky to meet someone like you once in her whole life, I can’t waste my chance, I won’t. I choose you, today, tomorrow, always._

_With love,  
_ _Phoebe_

* * *

**Phoebe’s birthday: April 17**

Regé video-calls Phoebe at midnight, UK’s time zone, to wish her a happy birthday. He’s so cute singing and blowing the pink candle on a cupcake that’s supposed to be for her. Red velvet flavor, just as she likes. Tears prickle at the corner of her eyes because no special gift would ever compare to be in his arms right now. It’s tough, yet she beams at him and tries to enjoy his thoughtful gesture. They talk about menial things, it’s still 4 pm in Los Angeles, a beautiful afternoon, and without the lockdown, he’d go to the beach near his house and soak in the sun. Phoebe can’t imagine what it feels like to endure a quarantine alone, but he reassures her he’s more than okay in isolation, that she’s the only one he’d like to have close. His deep voice slowly lulls her to sleep, still, hanging up remains the hardest task because Regé can’t stop watching her relaxed face, parted lips, and disheveled blonde hair he wishes they’d be scattered on his pillow. He misses her even if he puts up a strong front, their time together is limited, and he prefers spending it in a happy mood, making her laugh and defusing their current situation. His thumb hovers on the end call button, feeling like a stalker for stealing more seconds with her, he touches the screen as if his caress could reach her before turning it off.

When Phoebe wakes up several hours later, the rest of the family still sleeps soundly, so she sneaks out to watch the sunrise in the field. Wrapped up in her cozy winter coat, she stares at the sky changing colors, all these shades of pink, then orange are like flames among the blue, a wonderful show that repeats itself every single morning. _Everything the light touches…_ it brings back a past memory of another field, another spark frozen in time. She scrolls the photo albums on her phone and finds Regé’s picture she took last year in August: he stood in a pale blue shirt, black trousers gazing at the distant horizon. They were shooting the honeymoon sequences at Castle Howard, the garden sex at night in particular, and she was freezing, dreaming of a warm bed and a hot chocolate.  
Phoebe zooms the image, it’s hard to say which sight is more astonishing, him or the view surrounding. She must have unconsciously kept it for a reason, maybe just to have the chance to treasure it six months from then, on her birthday, all alone at 5.300 miles away from him. Phoebe sighs, she won’t let the heartache ruin the celebration: she’ll blow candles, make a wish, eat cake and be grateful to have so many people who love her. Her phone beeps in her hand, a new text from Regé:

“Good morning sunshine, happy birthday!” 

And a new smile blossoms on her face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 is up in a bit of advance! I dedicate it to all of you shippers, who love this couple no matter what. To those who are heartbroken, in some ways disappointed, or that still hope they’ll get together in the future because chemistry like that doesn’t happen every day. We are happy for Regé anyway, and I hope you all romantic souls will respect his choice...  
> Thanks to all people who take their time to read and review, it means a lot to me!  
> X, D.
> 
> PS: a special thanks to my friend Aparna: your feedback and impressions are gold!

Days turn into weeks, then months, lockdown ends, and summer comes and goes. The new season and several work-related businesses finally bring Regé back to London. Due to a delayed flight, he lands in town the same morning of their British Vogue’s shooting and rushes to the meeting without a moment of rest. Eleven hours on a plane, exhausted and sleep-deprived, couldn’t prepare Regé to see Phoebe for the first time in half a year… his heart leaps up for the overwhelming emotion, he’s paralyzed with happiness, even his voice doesn’t cooperate, and once she turns around, they both fall victims to the same spell. She hesitates for a split of seconds because of the people around them, then runs to him, and he welcomes her with open arms. They don’t fool anyone, this is not a friendly hug, it’s the reunion of two lovers, but he doesn’t care, he can hardly contain his joy. Phoebe sighs in his embrace as if she held her breath for so long and could only function in his presence again. She tries to restrain her reaction, yet few tears fall anyway because she can’t believe he’s here, smelling divine like in her dreams.

“Hi sunshine”

“Hi” she gives a tremulous smile

“You’re a sight for sore eyes” he brushes her cheek

“You too, you have no idea”

Six months are no joke, the distance changed them, not just physically — he cut his beard, and she dyed her hair red — but internally, the kind of transformation not visible from the outside. Their reunion is cut short by the magazine’s staff, the make-up artist works on them quickly, then the stylist shows them the outfits they’ll wear and helps them get dressed.  
Regent’s Park is an excellent location with its 400 acres, historic terraces, beautiful gardens, and the manicured lawns: a perfect background that carries them back to the 19th century’s world they lived in on Bridgerton’s set. Autumn tinges the parks with yellow, brown, and orange colors, and the leaves covering the ground crack under their feet, and a sense of nostalgia hits them both.  
The photographer invites Regé to stare at Phoebe during the shots, he doesn’t even have to pretend to since he can’t take his eyes off her. She’s so beautiful, the Dior dress with the plunging neckline teases his wandering gaze, exposed creamy skin he’d like to savor: she could put on a potato’s sack and she’d still be the most gorgeous woman.   
Two other changes of outfit, endless poses, and pictures later, they finish the shooting and sit for the interview. They talk about Bridgerton, how they prepared for it, the story, the music, and costumes, how to expect the unexpected.  
It’s late afternoon when they wrap up for the day and call a cab to head to Regé’s apartment. During the ride through London’s busy traffic, he holds her hand in his, caressing it with his thumb in such a soothing manner. He’s tired after the trip and the long hours working, they both are, there are no particular expectations, but she knows what will happen once they are alone at his house… they spent too many nights moaning each other’s names not to tear their clothes off. Can he feel she’s nervous? Is it why he tries to calm her with his touch?  
They arrive at the destination, Regé invites her in and drags his suitcase into the living room.

“Make yourself at home, I’m going to take a quick shower” he smiles “There’s not much in the fridge, I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, I’m not hungry”

She couldn’t swallow anything even if she wanted, her stomach is in knots. 

“We can go out for dinner later or order in, as you prefer. Think about it”

He winks at her and disappears into the bedroom. The wait is nerve-racking, so she takes the chance to look around, so much can be said about a person knowing his preferences: what books he likes, the music, the guitar on the corner — he used to be in a band when he was younger — the paintings on the walls. Regé watches her amused from the doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist, and when she finally notices him, she jumps in surprise.

“Oh God! You scared me!”

“I didn’t want to disturb you, you seemed so… absorbed”

“Funny, I was just killing time” she shrugs

“You were snooping around” he chuckles

“I was not!”

“Oh yes, you were”

Regé walks to her, his damp chest is so close she could lick the water drops from his skin. Phoebe swallows at her dirty thoughts, still ogling him up and down: a skimpy piece of cloth barely covers his private parts, and it seems slightly tented… _oh, someone is aroused_. He kisses her, slow and sweet, without pressure or tension, of course, he wants her, but sex is not the reason she’s here, they’re not running a marathon, there’s no rush. Still, the state of his nakedness spurs her to get reacquainted with the flesh she hasn’t caressed for so long, her knuckles trace lines and planes, the happy trail disappearing underneath the towel…Regé shakes his head and stops her.

“If you take it off, we won’t leave the bed until tomorrow morning, and I’m sure I can do better on our first date”

“First date?” she furrows her eyebrows

“First official one” he smirks

She raises her hands“Okay, fine”

“Pick a restaurant. I’ll be right back”

He kisses her nose and walks away as she stares at his rounded butt.

“You’re staring!”

“It’s your peach’s fault!”

He burst out laughing, the best sound she has heard in a while, it’s contagious and brightens her spirit. How did she live without it until now? How did she manage without him?  
Regé comes back sporting a white t-shirt, jeans, and a black leather jacket, only he could pull the outfit off and not seem cocky. He’s so cool and handsome that Phoebe feels underdressed with no make-up, an oversized shirt, and black leggings; he must follow her train of thought because he lifts her chin up to look at her. 

“You don’t need fancy clothes to be perfect, you already are”

She melts at his loving words, he always knows what to say, how to reassure her, and wipes away her insecurities like a balm for her soul.  
They walk hand in hand through his neighborhood’s streets and enjoy their anonymity. The buzz around Bridgerton increases every day as their promotion appointments, the fans of the books keep sharing their love and enthusiasm on social media about the series and its release date on Christmas. Work should be out of their mind now though, they’re finally together, and nothing else matters. At least for the next twenty-four hours for sure.   
They end up at an Italian restaurant nearby, the place is cozy and colorful with checkered white and red tabletops, and hot peppers hanging from the ceiling. No one pays attention to them as they sit at a secluded candle-lit table, it’s intimate, yet casual at the same time. Regé selects a bottle of red wine to go with their meal: a selection of Italian cheese and ham cuts for starters, Cacio e Pepe pasta, and bucatini with Amatriciana sauce so they can try both.  
As they hand the menu back to the waiter, he finds himself staring at her glowing complexion, the ginger hair he has to get used to and that little smile she reserves for him only. Her hand squeezes him affectionately, he interlaces their fingers and brings them to his lips, eliciting a shiver. They feel it, their connection, this force that shakes their core flares between them. They’re so lost in each other they almost miss the waiter coming by and serving the dishes in the same metallic pans they’re cooked: such a cool and unexpected touch.

“Let’s make a toast,” Regé says and raises his glass “To us, and our future!”

“To us!” she repeats

  
The food is incredible, it’s like being transported to Italy, from the delicacy of the appetizers to the al dente pasta and the sauces’ richness. Conversation flows easily as they dig in, they always have a good time together, even before as friends no matter what they did, if it was tripping on each other’s toes while dancing or laughing at a wrong line or a joke. Some things never change. They are in tune, playing the same silent song with the life’s chords.  
A tiramisù to share ends the exquisite dinner, they feed each other this homemade treat, a mix of mascarpone, coffee, and chocolate, heaven in a dessert. Watching him lick a spoon shouldn’t affect her this much, yet it does because this is real life, no camera, no script, just them. He’s so sexy and delectable she has no idea why they left the house to begin with, warmth spreads inside her belly and pulses right between her legs. Just a glance at her and Regé asks for the check, dragging her back to his apartment in a fit of giggles.  
Clothes fall to the floor like autumn leaves, greedy mouths attack one another, they’ll go slow later because he couldn’t pace himself even if he tried. Regé lays down on the bed and maneuvers her to sit on his face, the action is so swift she has to clutch the headboard for balance before he eats her like a ripe fruit. His hands hold her little butt as he feasts on her like a starved man, Phoebe moans loudly, overstimulated by his tongue and the delicious things it does to her. She watches him through heavy lids, meeting eyes so dark she could fall into and lose herself in wonderland. He flicks her clit with a devilish smirk, and she throws her head back, she’s so wet it’s almost embarrassing, pity that her sense of decency went out of the window as soon as he touched her. His thick fingers enter her, pushing and twisting to heighten her bliss, but it’s the flick of his thumb on her G-spot that sends her flying into euphoria. She comes hard, gushing wetness on his chin: he’s the picture of eroticism, handsome and cocky, as he laps her labia, not wasting even a drop of her sweet nectar. Regé shifts her to rest on his chest, his throbbing erection twitches between them, eager to play. He pets her hair as she recovers, the previous frenzy forgotten in favor of a lazy embrace; her erratic heartbeat slows down, and she finally looks up at him meeting him halfway for a sensual kiss. Filthy and sexy, the taste of herself on him turns her back on, Phoebe just wants him in a dirty, carnal way, and won’t apologize for taking what she needs. Regé sits up with her on his lap, and they stare at each other: the moment is so charged with lust and jitters, this is a huge step they won’t be able to go back from, yet it feels so right their bodies welcome each other like old lovers reuniting again. Alpha and omega, the beginning and the end.  
Flesh against flesh they move in synchrony, a dance of intoxicating pleasure, her tightness tests his self-control, he feels like a horny teenager on his first time. She rides him like a goddess, rotating her hips in a tantalizing manner, he sucks and bites her puckered nipples, the joy of marking her spurs him on, and he matches her rhythm from underneath. Thrust after thrust, her red locks undulate behind her shoulders, grunts and moans echo in the room as they climb towards the end. Her walls constrict around him and he climaxes at the same time she does, he empties himself inside her with his nose pressed between her breasts, thinking he can die as a happy man. They call “nirvana”, the highest state of enlightenment someone can attain, where individual desires and suffering disappear. This is how he feels right now, floating in some kind of ecstasy with her, he clings on her for dear life because after what they experienced, he’ll never let her go.   
Phoebe feels lightheaded, drunk of him, and the satisfaction he gave her. Sex has never been such a thrill before, a glorious trip inside and outside herself with a man that shouldn’t be legal: Regé’s a godsend, he’s softening and still fills her completely. The delicious pain of him stretching her will make her sore tomorrow but she doesn’t care, it was worth the wait. He brushes some damp tendrils away from her face and kisses her softly. 

“I love you…” he whispers

Phoebe’s eyes waters for the emotion “I love you too, so much”  
  


They make love all night, slow and fast, rough and sweet, their passion is an ever-burning flame, a hunger that can’t be satiated quickly despite the many peaks they reach together. The sun rises behind the curtains when they finally lay spent on rumpled blankets, and fall asleep spooning.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, chapter 7 is up! I hope you loved our cuties finally getting together! In the chapters, I try to incorporate words they said in interviews or facts actually happened in real life to make the story “more believable”. As always, your comments are welcome! Enjoy! X, D. 
> 
> Ps: Thanks Aparna for being my super patient beta reader! ♥

They wake up many hours later still entangled in one another. He can’t remember the last time he has rested so peacefully without tossing and turning or having weird dreams, Phoebe is his dreamcatcher. Part of him enjoys smelling himself on her skin; sex, sweat, and him, their scents mixed as one. They waited for so long and he’d do it all over again just to live those perfect, unimaginable instants of eternity with her. No empty orgasm could ever compare to what they shared. 

“Good morning sunshine…” he murmurs against her neck

“Morning stud” she chuckles at the massive erection poking her butt

Regé groans and squeezes her tight, will he be sporting a constant boner from now on? He clearly can’t control himself around her and his “buddy” down there agrees.

“You’re so warm and soft, he really likes playing with you…”

He snuggles more, hands inching down her lower belly before she stops his optimistic attempt to start another round.

“Oh, _he_ did play all night and morning long, I’m sore”

“Poor baby” he coos “Do you want me to kiss _it_ better?”

She slaps his arm around her waist “You pervert!”

He laughs and bites her earlobe, playful “I’ll make you a deal: how about a cuddly shower?”

She turns around to face him “What’s a cuddly shower?”

“It’s that thing where we cuddle and then wash each other”

Phoebe raises an eyebrow, skeptical “Why I don’t believe you?”

“I promise I’ll be on my best behavior”

He flashes her one of his megawatt smiles and she can’t help but melt, he has the power to render her one of those women she has always detested, a brainless little girl. Phoebe beams at him, this awesome man is really hers, and he cherishes her outside and inside the bed, which was either-or before him, and they click, he understands her without too many words or explanations. Perhaps it’s just the oxytocin talking, but she feels emotionally closer to him, especially after confessing their feelings last night. Regé looks at her and wonders what’s going on in her beautiful mind because when she’s lost in thought, a cute frown appears on her face. He spots the love bite left on her breasts in the throes of passion and feels insanely smug and proud of his doing, as if marking her like his property wasn’t a caveman’s action. He doesn’t care though, Phoebe is his, now more than ever, they belong together. His finger traces the birthmark on her mouth’s corner, which he found lovely since the moment he saw her, so very Cindy Crawford, then traces her lips before claiming her in a fiery kiss.  
They end up having a “cuddly shower”, a term she finds out he just concocted for their benefit, another attempt to keep her wet and naked… The hot water soothes her tender muscles and limbs. She hadn’t had sex in so long he simply swiped away the remains of that last blurry memory, and oh, how great he did. Regé can be the most gentle and charming guy, but also a freak in the sheets… he took her in positions she guessed were only theoretical and always put her satisfaction first despite his own needs. He’s a selfless lover who is not afraid of getting his talented mouth full, definitely not!   
Regé and Phoebe stand under the waterfall nozzle, her cheek pressed against his chest, listening to his regular heartbeat, and his head rests on hers. He’s the only one she enjoys the silence with without the need of filling it, it’s one of the many qualities she loves about him: he’s smart, articulate, and manages just fine in every conversation, however, he appreciates the importance of quiet like her. Their job brings them in contact with so many people every day, costars, crew members, journalists, photographers, even fans, and sometimes it gets so overwhelming, a little corner of peace becomes basic survival.  
As promised, Regé behaves, and after long cuddling he washes every inch of her lithe body thoroughly, doing the same to himself; he wraps a towel around his waist and opens the bathrobe for her, patting her dry gently. It’s so good to be taken care of this way, to be treasured, this is what she missed in all her past relationships, a devotion that doesn’t hide any ulterior motive, a mature and intelligent exchange with her other half. Her heart flutters… he’s the one, she knows he is deep down, and the notion is both thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

“Can I borrow a pair of your boxers and a t-shirt? I don’t want to wear my dirty ones…”

Regé hands her the items with a smirk and watches her dress intently: there’s much to say about _his woman_ wearing his own clothes, it’s hot and beyond arousing.

“They look much better on you…”

“Flatterer!”

“It’s true, baby” he kisses her forehead and bends to rummage through his luggage

 _Baby…_ she can’t handle all these sweet blows. He had never called her that before, Pheebs, sunshine yes, somehow she really likes it though. Nicknames are special to her because when you name a person you get attached, it means something, it becomes important.  
She goes back to the bathroom to brush her teeth, totally unaware of the crisis about to occur in the bedroom. Regé freezes, holding an unopened box of condoms… they didn’t use protection last night, and he didn’t realize it until now! He came inside her so many times, and _fuck_ , it was unbelievable! How could they be so irresponsible? He freaks out in his head, picturing the worst-case scenario: diapers, vomit, sleepless nights, and a screaming infant with Phoebe’s eyes he has no idea how to comfort… no, no, no, he’s not ready to be a father! It’s too soon, they just got together, so many things to do, trips and experiences to make, and their demanding job, how will they manage all their duties? He lives in LA, she in London… _bloody hell_! They need to talk, he should ask her if…

“Hey, what’s going on? You’re very pale, slightly green I’d say”

“We had bareback sex last night…” he blurts out

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill”

Regé exhales loudly, relieved there will be no pregnancy in the near future. He finally gets color back in his cheeks, yet his hands still feel numb.

Phoebe chuckles “Did you really think I wouldn’t have noticed?”

“Apparently I wasn’t thinking or I was doing it with the wrong head!”

The joke makes her burst out laughing, and he joins her. God, laughing is so liberating, especially after such a big scare!

“You’re crazy, Regé-Jean Page! I’m 25, and motherhood is not in my plans for a long while!”

“Good to hear”

They take a cab to Phoebe's place so she can change into a more suitable outfit. She moved to Hampstead, Northwest London, back in August, choosing a classic house with a cream color palette, high ceilings, and vintage-style furniture. The space is luminous and airy, it suits her, and Regé clearly detects her touch in every single detail. Searching in her closet, she puts on a black sweater, skinny jeans, and a pair of combat boots, a bit of eyeliner, mascara, and cherry lipgloss. She’s not high-maintenance, she has never spent hours getting ready, and if 2020 taught her a lesson was to appreciate time with her loved ones.  
Today is one of those rare sunny days in London, so they arrange a picnic of sushi to go and some sweets from the nearby bakery in Hampstead Heath Park. The fresh air as the company is nice after the long lockdown, people wear masks and take all the necessary precautions, still, this new taste of freedom feels refreshing.  
Phoebe places the blanket under an evergreen tree and sets the containers and drinks out for their feast: sushi is their favorite food after all, and they finally get to savor it together. 

“Do you remember our chemistry test?” she asks, pensive

“Like it was yesterday”

She chuckles, plucking a blade of grass “I told you: I just want to say you’re brilliant. Good luck with it all –”

“…you’re going to be great” he finishes her sentence “How could I forget? I knew you were one of a kind!”

“You sort of smiled and giggled at me”

“I was embarrassed, I didn’t expect that” he bites a salmon roll

“I imagined you’d read with loads of other girls…”

“None of them were you” he says, serious

Their eyes meet and the same spark comes alive. They can be in a room full of producers, act in a field, lay naked in an unmade bed, or talk in front of a screen thousands of miles away, and yet, they catch fire. Regé puts his arms around her shoulders and draws her close to him. He kisses her forehead as Phoebe snuggles against his chest, they both starve for physical closeness, for the affection only the other offers. Sex is amazing between them, no surprise there, their need runs much deeper though, not only love, reassurance, and stability but also healing the wound the distance inflicted.   
They clean up and take a stroll, reminiscing funny stories and anecdotes from the set, who did or said what, and Regé confesses he’d relive the experience all over again: if he hadn’t accepted Simon Basset’s role, they probably would have never crossed paths, and his world would be missing a piece, his sunshine.

After spending the day outside, they relax at home and sleep at her place. Since neither of them was gifted with culinary skills, they order pizza take-out and eat watching “The Queen’s Gambit” on Netflix, addicted to the plot. It seems like a dream, Phoebe subtly pinches herself, worried her imagination played tricks on her, except he really sits next to her on the couch, ruggedly handsome with a five o’clock stubble. All of a sudden she crawls on his lap and sneaks the hands in under his t-shirt in a teasing manner, he hardens against her covered pussy, going from zero to one-hundred in a second. He claims her mouth and gropes her butt, her breasts barely hidden by the cotton dress: she turns him on like crazy with her little whimpers, and he has to take her now. They don’t even bother undressing, he lowers his pants and pushes her underwear aside before slowly sinking into her heaven. In this position her channel feels even tighter, she’s so tiny it takes her a few thrusts to accept his big erection to the hilt. Phoebe gasps as she gets used to the fullness, such bittersweet torture she never wishes to end. He rolls them over and moves on top, pushing her ankles on his shoulders. They moan loudly, the angle is so deep he shuts his eyes for restraint, but she bites his lower lip to get his attention back, and the action fires him up. He fucks her fast, wild pleasure escalates like madness as they both rush to the finish line, to the yearned pinnacle and the explosion following. They come together, caught up in the rapture, one heart and one soul. This is the hottest quickie he has ever had, holy cow! He’s pretty sure his brain has to be relaunched because even breathing is a struggle, and his muscles don’t cooperate. Phoebe kisses him sweetly, basking in the afterglow of their union, and a surge of joy he can’t express overcomes him.   
Later, they have another “cuddly shower”, which becomes a new ritual for the couple, a way to connect and enjoy post-coital cuddles, then watch more tv in bed. Exhaustion catches up to Regé and he falls asleep right away. Phoebe stares at his profile illuminated by the screen’s light… he’s handsome, bare-chested, features relaxed, not a single worry. She smirks at nail marks on his bicep, they got carried away before, she regrets nothing though! They need to make up for the lost time, the sexual frustration accumulated over the months, and she just can’t get enough of him! She blushes, lusting after him like a naughty schoolgirl, and squeezes her thighs to relieve the pressure. If he wasn’t so tired, she’d push for another round… what has gotten into her? Maybe she should say _who_. She laughs at her own mental joke, all this serotonin must have gone to her head! She’s happy like she hasn’t been in so long and won’t apologize for it, they deserve it.

* * *

Later that night, Regé wakes up thirsty and heads to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. In the confusion, he knocks something off the granite countertop, a journal from the look of it… he shouldn’t, it’s an invasion of privacy, yet curiosity gets the best of him, and after checking Phoebe is still asleep, he opens it to a random page.  
  


 _Dear Regé,  
_ _Another day went by and you’re still in California. Scribbling words to you makes me feel closer than any video-call in some stupid way, it lifts a weight from my shoulders and gives me some mental peace. Maybe because I don’t have to put up a strong front here, I can cry, get angry or sad, I don’t have to conceal my emotions, how my feelings for you consume me… I know you care about me, you show me every day, to what point though? When will enough be enough for you? Will I be replaceable? I can’t imagine my life without you in it, the remote possibility ruins me, so I survive in a state of denial, of pathetic optimism.  
_ _I often find myself daydreaming of an alternative present: what would have happened to us without the pandemic? Would we be together? In London or in LA? Working or resting? Japan was the next vacation on our bucket list, would we have packed suitcases by now? Summer is upon us, and instead of visiting ancient temples and futuristic cities, the good, old field will keep greeting me from the window. No work, no trips, no you.  
_ _I adore my family, yet sometimes I feel trapped by them, their questions, and the forced cohabitation, I try to decompress and focus on writing scripts. Have I ever told you I’d like to explore more than just acting in the future? Just to keep my options open and challenge myself as a writer or director, I’m not sure if I’d be good at it, it’d be a nice test though.  
_ _I miss you… every beat of my bruised heart does. Is there a cure? Will it get better? Because you look fine to me, happy and unaffected, what’s your secret? Deep down I know what it is, I love you and you just care, it’s a monumental difference; you function perfectly without me while I’m a broken, empty doll. It doesn’t matter, even if you don’t feel the same, I wouldn’t change a thing… it’s better losing you than having never met you. People come and go, there’s who leaves a scar and who a mark, pain, or a good memory, and I’ll always cherish the incredible gift that is your presence in my life. I love you. Today, tomorrow, always._

_X,_

_Phoebe_

  
Regé has to sit down, shocked by what he just found out. How did he not notice her distress? He was aware she missed him, he did too, that the distance was particularly hard for her, except not to such length. He hurts with her and blames himself for not comforting her enough, for not reassuring her of his intentions about their relationship, for not making her feel worthy, and adored. He loves her with every fiber of his being, he has since the beginning, and she mistook his omission for lack of attachment. He’s such a lousy boyfriend! Closing the journal, he puts it back on the kitchen counter and stares at empty space. They’ll start over, he’ll prove to her she’s his everything, his priority, the first thought in the morning and the last at night. As soon as it is allowed to travel, they’ll go to Japan as they talked about, and he wants to read all her scripts, he has no doubt she’ll be amazing at anything she puts her mind to do.  
Regé goes back to bed and spoons her warm, little body. He’s the luckiest guy in the world to love and be loved by such an extraordinary woman, an honor not to take for granted. Phoebe sighs in his embrace and kisses her head before abandoning himself in Morpheus’ arms.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, chapter 8 is up! Thanks everybody for reading and leaving a comment! Sorry if I don't answer each of you, but I'm truly grateful for your feedback! In this chapter, I wanted to convey the different emotions the series success elicited on them as actors, people and couple and how it affects them.  
> Stick with me, the best is yet to come... Enjoy! X, D.
> 
> Ps: as always thanks to my friend and beta reader Aparna, I'd be lost without your help! :)

Some days later, UK’s Prime Minister announces the second lockdown of four weeks. Phoebe and Regé spend it together between her house and his apartment. It’s quite an adjustment going from a long separation to live together 24/7, they have to learn each other’s little habits, to give the other space when needed, and to let disagreements go for the sake of their relationship: cohabitation challenges every couple, especially young ones like them. They’re both stubborn and opinionated with a strong sense of right and wrong that sometimes tends to clash.  
The first promotional interviews for Bridgerton get scheduled starting from the end of November to the next year, especially once the show is out. Spending Christmas, separated, with their own families seems inevitable, it’s too soon to meet the other’s relatives, their romance is new, and they want to keep it to themselves and stay in their own bubble. Days fly by among take-out meals, Netflix movies and series, devoured books since they’re both avid readers, so many laughs, but also arguments and the hottest make-up sex.  
At the beginning of December, the government eases restrictions, allowing travels between regions, and it is the time for Phoebe and Regé to say goodbye: he’ll stay back in London, and she’ll leave for Manchester. They linger on in the living room already dressed with her suitcase packed, yet unable to cross the threshold. She risks losing the train, yet they don’t care, they cling to each other in the tightest embrace, kissing as if their life depended on it. They made love all night getting their fill of love, pleasure, and affection, the last high for their bodies until the withdrawal. 

“I’m going to miss you” she whispers against his skin

“Miss you more”

Phoebe dries her tears “I’m being ridiculous, I’ll see you again in a month or so”

“At least we’re in the same time zone this time” he tries to ease the tension

“Right”

“I love you, baby”

“I love you too” her phone beeps “My ride is here, let’s go”

Regé walks her downstairs and helps her into the vehicle, he steals another kiss before watching the car turn the corner and disappear. 2020 keeps proving to be a tough year in all respects, they’ll get through it, it won’t break them, and after peeking into her journal, he’s aware of her insecurities, doubts he hoped he cleared up. Talking to her about it meant confessing to an invasion’s privacy, and he should take responsibility for his actions, perhaps he’s a coward, except he can’t bear to hurt her or the huge fight that would follow. They both try to navigate through this relationship despite all the hurdles thrown at them, and he just wants to be the man she deserves because she is all he needs. Great women are hard to come by, especially in their line of work, most tend to be full of themselves, selfish, vain, and self-centered, Phoebe is anything but that though: gorgeous, humble, kind, a beautiful soul the industry hasn’t corrupted yet. She carries herself with grace, one of the things that transpired during their first meeting, and her encouraging words at the end touched him deeply. He knew she’d be the perfect Daphne Bridgerton, his Dutchess, but not that she’d also steal his heart in the process. He smiles fondly, the best-lost battle ever!

* * *

In the blink of an eye, Christmas comes, and so does Bridgerton’s release day on December 25 on Netflix. Suddenly it’s a whirlwind of Zoom interviews, phone calls with journalists, panels etc. They talk to many people consecutively to make their heads spin, the questions tend to be always the same, and after a while it seems like reading from a script. In a matter of ten days, over 63 million households view the series, thrusting instant fame upon Phoebe and Regé. Nobody could predict such enormous success, and immediate response from the audience, everybody is crazy about the Duke and Duchess of Hastings! The unexpected stardom doesn’t touch them yet since they stay at home, unable to go outside and live a normal life. It feels surreal, and a bit overwhelming with the amount of affection they receive from the fans on social media daily.   
After another round of online meetings, Phoebe dines with her family as usual and waits for the household to go to sleep. It’s late at night when Regé finally video-calls her, a soft glow comes from her bedside lamp making her look ethereal, her pink silk nightie shows a little more skin than usual, something he does appreciate…

“Hi baby”

“Hey”

“We haven’t stopped seeing each other for a second today!” he jokes

“Aren’t you happy?” she teases

“I am, I love your sexy nightie…”

She bites her lip and smirks “Is it that kind of conversation?”

“Only if you want it to be…”

Oh, she does. They have been having phone sex lately, nothing comparable to the real thing but it’ll do for now. They hang up to set the computer, and once Regé’s back online, he lays on the bed with only a pair of already tented boxers.

“Hi…”

The change in his voice gives her a thrill, eliciting goosebumps all over her body. Phoebe lets a strap slip from her shoulder and uncovers one of her breasts to his lustful gaze before repeating the motion. He massages his covered groin, flat palm against his hard-on as he follows her movements. 

“Take everything off…” he breathes

 _Oh Lord_ , his intense arousal sets her belly on fire! How does he get so worked up from the other side of a screen? It’s madness, she has never felt so randy for a man her whole life! She complies, showing him her naked body with a timid smile.

“God, you’re so beautiful… ”

Her wandering hand pinches a nipple, that instantly puckers due to the cold air. If he was there, he’d be sucking them both until they were rosy and erect. Regé removes his boxers, and lubes his thick cock, the pre-cum already formed at the tip makes her mouth water. He smirks as if he just read her dirty mind, and she bites her lower lip, embarrassed.

“You look so innocent when you blush ”

“Not so much if you were here…” she pants, spreading her legs for him. Her pussy is already wet and swollen, waiting for a touch that won’t be his, it feels foreign, her disappointed body reacts to the difference right away. She skims her tender flesh teasingly, knowing she won’t come as hard as she would in his arms, it’s frustrating, yet they can’t help themselves.

“Tell me what you need”

“You!” she whines “I wish you were here…”

“Me too, baby! Touch yourself”

Phoebe closes her eyes and crosses her tight barrier, he misses her warmth and softness more than he can explain. If he hadn’t jacked off twice already this morning, his linguistic skills would be less poor and basic: the only head working at the moment is the one down below. 

“What are you thinking about?” he pants

“You… between my legs, you’re eating me, sucking and licking, it’s so good!”

“ _Fuck_!”

Regé fists his cock, pacing himself, he wants to savor the moment before it’s over too soon. He watches her fuck herself, getting speed, a thumb on her clit to enhance the stimulation. How doesn’t he lose it right away? He craves to feel her heaven around him, to possess and love her at the same time, to leave his mark like a predator and a crazy lover.

“Add a third finger!” he instructs

“Oh God!” she obeys and whimpers at the intrusion, he follows her rhythm, rapt by her motion, and jerks himself up and down.

“Feel it!” he groans “Feel me! I’m inside you, taking you hard the way you like. You’re squeezing my butt to get more of my big dick because you can’t get enough! ”

She moans his name loudly, lost in their fantasy, her breasts jiggle at her thrusts’ force. He squeezes his erection tight, pumping it quicker as it grows in his palm at the sight of her honey coating her hand. Both their pleasure escalates molding into a frenzy, they’re so close to peak now, they just need a little push…

“Say it! Now!”

“I… I can’t get enough of you!” she blurts out “I’m coming… Regé!”

“Phoebe baby, I’m right there with you!”

They climax together in a short and swift orgasm. Strips of semen paint his taut abdomen, but Regé doesn’t care, he has no intention to move for a while. Phoebe finally opens her eyes and responds to his grin, before slipping her nightie back on. This is the moment she loathes, when, after it ends, sadness and a bittersweet sense of dissatisfaction invade her. She cleans herself in silence without uttering a word, what’s the point of talking about it? He looks content and relaxed as always, it’s her problem, not his, except that she’s tired of being the only one who’s irrevocably invested in this relationship.  
After a hasty goodnight, Phoebe takes a shower, another reminder of their “cuddly” ones, a habit they took living together. Hot water pours over her, blurring her view of the tile floor, or are these tears? Numbness doesn’t overtake her as she wishes to; instead, she’s deeply distressed for so many reasons. Work has been hectic these past days, she’s under a lot of pressure, and some interviews make her uncomfortable, she ends up stammering like a barely-speaking child who can’t provide correct and relevant answers. It shouldn’t be so hard, they are always the same fucking questions! Sobs echo around her, what’s wrong with her? She’s an actress, it’s her job to be under the spotlight, to speak to the journalists, and do promotion. It also bothers her that even if the meetings are on Zoom, she’s supposed to make an effort and dress up while Regé just puts on the first thing he finds in the closet. It’s not his fault, that’s just the way it works, the pre-existing double standards between male and female actors.  
Phoebe cries for a while to get it all out, venting is good for her mental and emotional state. She needs to catch up fast and get used to the madness, or she won’t survive it. The notifications are deactivated on social media, and she tries not to google herself or check hashtags with her name on them.  
As soon as the holidays are over, she’ll travel back to London to be with Regé: it’s time they talk about their plans for the future, and whether they are on the same “page” or not.


End file.
